Last Shot

So I challenge the hippest guy
and all his friends to a drinking contest
line ‘em up and knock ‘em down
few hours later, I’m standing
balancing the earth on a
cerebral axis
of my own creation
I dance a solitary waltz
to a Tom Waits’ song
where friends are just illusions
of grandeur—an external extension
of wishful thinking.
I slam the last shot down
Walk out victorious
on my feet—free at last
to take on the neon haze of the street
and haggle with the corner boys
leaving the distance of triumph
miles behind
wondering if anything is worth it—anymore,
I'm alone on the bridge
across from the Michael Collins bronze statue,
thinking what it will take
to reflect back to my grandchildren
those shimmering sacred orange hues
of bronze.

John Kusak lives in Austin, TX.
He attended New College of California's
Poetic's MFA program for one year. He
is working on a second chapbook. He
can be reached at Johnvkusak@gmail.com

© 2008 Underground Voices